Summary: Four years have flown by. Everything passes in a blur to me. Every four years, things stay the same: a new ninja to train, more monsters to fight, and all just to hold off my nemesis in time for their graduation. After 800 years of the same cycle, things get boring...but this boy is proving to be a challenge.

When I was brought into this world, it was still young. Machinery was foreign and computers were nonexistent in the minds of the average human. In fact, a lot of things escape the average human.

Civilization was new, but the dangers were not. The Sorcerer, working to plunge the world into centuries of darkness, had been defeated by the last of my kin. He thought the work was over, that his magic had sealed the Sorcerer away until the end of time. However, where chaos exists, so does the Sorcerer.

He taught me everything he knew, enchanted me with the knowledge of the other eight who had fallen. I grieved with him when their spirits were entangled with mine. But they were still alive inside a story, so we lived together.

In the years that came, we fought against the Sorcerer's chaos. We travelled the world, following his magic to the ends of the Earth. The infamous magician was trapped once again on a land far away from our origins. My kin felt the pangs of homesickness, yet I had preserved what once was. He and I travelled within my bindings together. I feared the day when my last kindred spirit would fall into insanity. Thus, I shared my concern in the one way I knew how:

A ninja cannot live in the past, for he will miss the future.

He tried to soothe my troubled spirit, promising that he was merely visiting what he lost. It did nothing to quench my anxiety. The message has since been lost through the years. If it did nothing to my family, it would do nothing in the years ahead of us.

The day came when my first holder, my ninja, failed to protect the ones he had come to love. We resided in a small tribe, its namesake from our own. The main purpose of our settlement was due to our enemy. The Sorcerer had taken residence under the land we walked on. Before our arrival, the village was in ruins. Children were dying, people were grieving: people needed help. The green tendrils of dark magic seeped out of the ground, turning humans into monsters. Family slaughtered family, parents turned on parents, and the children cried. Fire, smoke, and chaos ruled this land. We couldn't leave such a hopeless place, we had to fix it.

While my ninja managed to hold off the Sorcerer, I knew it could never last. The longevity of the suit could only go so far and he had exceeded even its expectations. One cold, cloudy night, he failed. A monster was let loose on the tribe now known as Norriusi. We could only watch their demise. The land burned, the humans screamed, the animals fled and the children cried once again. That night, we learned how to accept the worst. We understood that sometimes happy endings were impossibilities lost to the entropy of the universe. We felt the familiar pang of loss. But like before, I knew I could heal. My kindred spirit would not, for he didn't have the time. Thus, my second teaching was formed.

As the night gives way to day, time eases the pain.

I never revealed that sentiment to him. It wouldn't help him now. What he needed was one last thing to live for, something that would ensure the safety of the world when he passed on.

Then, we found one survivor.

A young boy had escaped the chaos. He'd disobeyed his mother's wishes, sneaking off into the wild to hunt. When he returned to the razed grounds of his people, he stared at us. I will never forget that piercing gaze of hopelessness and denial. The charred remains of his family lay before him. As his eyes swept the ground, he spoke. His voice shook as he asked us "Where do I go from here?" My kin offered his hand and coaxed him onwards to greatness.

As soon as the young man accepted our offer, he became one of us. Four years later, I had a new ninja to look after. For once, I was the mentor of a human. The knowledge within me, passed down from the Norrisu 9, is the last of its kind. I hate to think that I've become an artifact.

The ninja suit is magically synced to me. I have the availing to unlock powers for the ninja as I see fit. The boy was a prodigy, but met his demise far sooner than my ninja. While protecting the still resettling area of Norriusi, he was killed. It was a stab wound straight through his heart. The worst part was continuing my existence with the guilt weighing me down. If I had unlocked the basic abilities earlier, he would have been with me for more than four years.

Guilt is a field, forgiveness is a mountain.

I did what I had to. My first priority was keeping the Sorcerer hidden away from the increasing population of Earth. My second was to find a new ninja. My third was to train the ninja. Generations came and passed. Wars were fought, conquerors stampeded through the wilderness I had come to love. Everything changed so fast, yet I remained timeless. I've been stolen, water logged, sun baked, stabbed, decimated, you name it. But one thing remained constant: every four years, I would find another warrior. I am forever trapped in a life of fours. That dreaded number has always been my downfall. It's always been four and always will be. I am powerless to stop the will of the universe upon my soul. I'm destined to perform this role, cursed with immortality a human can only dream of. This vicious cycle of recovery and loss would drive any human mad. But I am no human and I have a responsibility to uphold.

Year after year, this procedure went on. The tedious, monotonous, work as a mentor carried on through the centuries. Who knew 800 years could feel like an eternity? I can't die. I can't be destroyed. I won't be at peace until the Sorcerer is eradicated from the cosmos. Only then will my enchantment end. My will be blank, my spirit released. When my final ninja defeats my nemesis, I can finally be at peace. Whatever I do, that day won't come soon enough.

Every ninja that has trained under my supervision have all been similar. Whether it is in personality or intelligence, every child has been consistent with one another. As the times change, the people change. Comparing the first successor to my most recent one is out of the question. The time periods they were raised in allow for a large variation in mannerisms, but their general spirits are always too alike. My previous students always start as respectful, quiet individuals with a strong sense of justice and awareness of the world around them. It was only near the end of my seventh century when my apprentices began marking my pages. Whoever invented highlighters should die a long, painful death. My pages are forever marred by cheap ink and strange doodles. I wouldn't have it any other way.

The newer ninjas presented something different. They had edginess to them, a strong rush of confidence over whatever crosses their paths. Every note they made helped their successor learn a bit faster, think quicker and explore the far reaches of my pages. However, nobody had the spirit of my ninja.

In the now ancient times of my creation, it was said that a spirit could be reborn into another body. The process could take years, centuries even, but eventually that spirit would make its way back to Earth. It was a blind, childish hope I held onto after my ninja's demise. The new age students restored my shattered fate as each one became more and more like the ninja I remembered. However, they were all missing that special something, the thing that made my ninja my ninja. Maybe I had been too naïve to cling to such a false hope. After all, the universe doesn't work that way.

My sentiments were proved correct long ago.

Each ninja to come under my training usually master their skills by the beginning of their fourth year. Nobody has ever reached my high expectations of mastering the suit in two years. They all had some mental roadblock to overcome, something that took precious months away from their basic training. They believed they had all the time in the world. It wasn't until the establishment of Norrisville High that the teenagers realized they had a mere four years. But things were going downhill long before.

One of my fifth-century (as in, my fifth-century) students couldn't-and most of the time, wouldn't-fight at all. When they were chosen to be my next trainee, they stared at the mask with fear and disgust. They threw me against a wall, shouting about how their life was ruined and that his parents would disown him. You know, all that teen-angst that I really don't have the time (or patience) for. I do commend him for his quick response to the Sorcerer's magic. Every time someone was turned into a despair-monster, he was there to counteract. But then that day came. The day when I can do nothing as my student breaks down before my bindings.

Everyone holds something dear to them. Very few apprentices realize the item in question may not be completely tangible. Some people aren't as materialistic as others and hold fast to beliefs and morals. It was a situation of the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a woman. She was a good, religious, moral, upstanding woman within the community of Norristowne. Her first born child was stillborn and her sobbing was heard from fields away. I could feel her despair. The Sorcerer could exploit her despair.

If I've learned anything, it's that human belief systems are powerful. I'm amazed at their strength, their grip on their followers. I cannot begin to understand it. This woman, she prayed to her deity for some form of solace. She received black magic instead. History repeated itself. Within an hour, Norristowne was no more. The ninja was brutally murdered during the one-sided battle. He would not harm the woman, for her source of strength was her heart. To destroy the heart would destroy her. I tried to take action, to control the suit. He resisted. He fell by her hand…

Mercy never wins the battle.

…and she fell by my rage. I had failed yet another apprentice. There were only more failures to come.

A ninja has no friends.

My existence has become a lonely one. Nobody stays for long and nobody remembers their adventures. Sometimes, I think it comes to them in a dream. It's usually a wild fantasy, too crazy to be considered the truth. But I know. I shall always remember those who survived the fighting, those who became my friends and the loss I felt when I had to let them go.

The way to forget is to remember.

I had to flood their minds with knowledge of past ninjas. It was the only way to erase their memories of ever being the ninja. If they remembered, they would be in danger for the rest of their lives. The successors would be caught in the middle of something far beyond their comprehension. I am here to preserve lives, not to destroy them. Sometimes, I wonder if I've made the right decision.

800 years have come and passed. Everything has melded into a blur of loss and pain. My last trainee was one of the best. She listened, she learned, she had a social life. She graduated at the top of her class. She annoyed me so much. When I say "one of the best", I mean a good student. Usually, I do not find their presence comforting or enjoyable. She was an agile fighter, quick to think. Progressing faster than the others, she held my interest in that respect. Perhaps I had found the one who could free the Earth and myself from the never-ending battle. But maybe the trade-off had been too great. By the end of her senior year, nothing more had been accomplished than keeping the Sorcerer at bay. She could never see the big picture, never accepted the fact that she could have been the one to destroy the entity of all evil. In that way, she failed me.

I was skeptical when the Tengu spirit drew me to a tall, lanky boy of fourteen. He was nothing special. Best friends with a loud mouth, poor grades in school, not a lot of respect for his elders…basically, his entire personality screamed "NO". But I observed him as the girl studied for exams. I found the one aspect that drew me to him: his fighting spirit. This was the human willing to risk everything for what he believed was right. He was overconfident, naïve, impulsive, crazy; the list goes on. In other words, I had found my ninja's spirit preserved in all of its youth within this child. My decision was made.

The result: my biggest challenge yet.

When I first arrived at his dwelling, he saw the mask and threw me away. Most of my previous partners carefully placed me on a table or tossed me onto their bed. Very few actually opened me. I wasn't surprised when this one ignored my pages, but he flung me over his shoulder. Unceremoniously, I hit the ground spine up. Do you know how bad that is for a book, let alone one over 800 years old? The most I could do was glow an angry red. Whatever, he'd find me when he was ready to use his brain.

Predictably, the boy returned to me after struggling through his first battle. His bravado had lessened, if only slightly, and this was his first step to accepting what I had to offer. He is the type to learn as he goes without knowing the rules first. I can accommodate for that.

Believe in the weapon that is in the suit.

It was my first piece of advice to him. He needed the initial confidence boost as well as an easy message to solve. Besides, he discovered my true intentions after unsheathing the katana. I was mildly surprised. Very few students began with that piece of weaponry. Many had mastered the rings before considering the use of a sword. They felt it was a ruthless weapon. In my day, it was the most respectable. Guns are nothing against the beautifully sculpted metal of a loyal blade. Ninjas have no need for those spark-sticks, hardly a way to conceal your position.

Expectations for the child rose after his rapid discovery and understanding of the Sorcerer's form of attack. Granted, it's not a hard concept to understand, but for the Sorcerer to be active right at the beginning of the year is a rare occurrence. Dare I say it, he performed beautifully in action.

Things became more complicated from there.

He's tested my patience more than once and continues to do so. The infuriation began when he blatantly revealed his identity to his best friend. There's a reason why I made the identity rule: less people would get hurt. Now, he's unintentionally put his "bro" in danger. No matter what I do, I cannot separate the pair. Their bond is strong, one of the strongest friendships I've seen. This boy is a far cry away from the introverts I'm used to. His spirit burns brightly in the eyes of many.

It's not uncommon for him to write me off as insane. He's ignored my advice countless times now and completely upset the control I have over my temper. I've managed to hiss at him a few times in hopes of getting my message across. He's always twice as stubborn and is convinced that I DON'T know everything. Excuse me, but HE has certainly NOT been around for 800 years!

His first major test of character came during a week of nonstop battles, excluding Wednesday of course. Even I know nothing happens on Wednesdays. He was overconfident, claiming he was "in the zone". I don't entirely know what that means, but apparently it's something close to "ignore better judgment". He was doing incredibly well all week. I thought he could go beyond what he knew and master the basics in less than a month. He was a prodigy, but he became prideful. He ignored me yet again, insulted my wisdom. I was beyond furious. I was just about ready to give up on the sorry excuse of an apprentice!

I shut myself off from him and, in return, ignored his pleas for help. I am NOT a failsafe only to be used when something goes horrendously wrong! He could figure it out on his own after a beating from his opponent. Perhaps that would humble him!

Still, I didn't want him to lose faith or die. Yes, it's a morbid thought but after years of unpredictability, it's not the most implausible thing in the world. I've survived long enough to see everything from death by poison to death by chocolate. Ironically, it was a combination of both that led to-I completely went off on a tangent. The kid is rubbing off on me.

Anyways, he came back to me later during the night. He asked for my forgiveness and for my teachings. In that moment, I was sure of two things:

He isn't perfect and he knows it. He will continue making mistakes and learning from them. He is still very young; he has a long way to go.

He is the embodiment of my ninja. He will defend the defenseless and he will always come back to me. He needs me and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Good, because I wouldn't have it any other way.

This boy became the first of many. He was the first to completely disregard my warnings, the first to infuriate me beyond belief, the first to reach his roots before the annual snowfall, the first to disobey my rules, the first to remind me of my family long since passed, the first to make me feel genuinely happy and amused, the first to try and understand what I am...

But most importantly, he is the first name I can and will remember for a very long time.

He is Randy Cunningham, 9th grade ninja.

I am his faithful NinjaNomicon.

We wouldn't have it any other way.

A/N: Yay, there's finally a RC9GN Archive! :D So yeah, this idea was jumping around inside my brain. The Nomicon is definitely sentient, so why not write a story from its POV? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it! :)